


Trusting you is hard to do

by Writerofshit (kay_samm)



Series: heaven and hell and us [5]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: And takes place years ago, Before ray left and they found jeremy and such, Established Ray/Michael, M/M, Slow Build, This is very old, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-10 22:12:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15301143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kay_samm/pseuds/Writerofshit
Summary: The first time Geoff kisses Ryan is after a heist gone very, very bad.Or: how fear and deep heart to hearts turn criminals into teenagers.Day 5/30 Day OTP Challenge: Kissing





	Trusting you is hard to do

**Author's Note:**

> This is literally years old, both irl and in-universe. This is back in a time when Ray existed, Geoff drank, and nobody really had their shit together.

The first time Geoff kisses Ryan is after a heist gone very, very bad.

  
It starts like this:

  
They're making their getaway, Jack is driving a _limo_ of all vehicles, and the police presence behind them is intense. Michael has his head stuck out of the sunroof, a minigun in his hands. Every escape is like this, made of chaos and insanity. They are always disappearing by the skin of their teeth, the margin narrower than the shrapnel they leave behind.

  
Tonight it's closer than ever before, more frightening than it has been in the past. It has gone wrong in so many ways, all from the very beginning. It was meant to be simple, easy money. In and out in an hour, two tops. Spend a fun evening robbing a string of convenience stores, make a grand exit (hence the limo). Easy.

  
But there's a leak somewhere, because somebody knows. Not police, no, of course not, because that would be too easy. It's a rival crew, and not even a particularly nice one. They have their rivals that they begrudgingly like, in all honesty, FakeHaus and the Grumps and Mark. But this time? It’s piece of shit nobodies whose names they don’t even know.

  
It's _Ray_ , snatched from his fucking rooftop before they even know something is wrong. It’s calling, screaming over the intercom until they _realize_ Ray is not going to answer because he _can't_. Ray is _gone_ , and they have no idea what the fuck happened.

  
It’s a scramble to try and understand, to try and find him. They don’t even know who the fuck could have done it, who could have gotten ahead of them enough to fuck them up so spectacularly. Michael is the one to figure it out, to put ‘those guys we kind of fucked over a few weeks ago’ and ‘wasn’t Ray the one to take out their guards?’ together into the ‘oh shit’ conclusion. Gavin is the one to find their main hideout, their shitty abandoned building in the middle of Fucking Nowhere. And Jack is the one to get them there.

  
How none of them even think that it’s where the assholes would have taken Ray, Geoff chalks up to panic. It’s not how they operate, they have a hundred locations all over, different places for different needs. Never in a million years would they even dream of bringing a hostage to the penthouse, why the fuck would anybody shit where they eat like that? So they come in, made of heavy gunfire and _actual_ flame, because who the fuck lives in a wooden building anymore? They come and they destroy, thinking it’s the first step in a long road of decimating these people.

  
It isn’t until they’re out again, piling back into the limo that it registers, a dozen men left to burn but wait _isn’t that all of them?_ If their entire crew is trapped back in the building, then Ray must be too. It's Ryan who realizes, who goes back. It's Ryan who takes everybody down, wipes out an entire crew because they dared to touch one of his.

  
Ryan who they've never been quite sure about, never certain that he wouldn't turn on them, take off in the middle of the night. What had he wanted all those months ago when he came looking for the crew, for Geoff? It had been so out of blue, so out of character for him. At least, what his character was known to be. Despite all they had been through thus far, none of them were ever really sure that they trusted him, that they _could_ trust him.

  
Geoff in particular has had a nagging suspicion that there was a catch, some ulterior motive to Ryan's interest. He was after all, the notorious Vagabond, loyal only to himself. He didn't work with people in that way, took odd jobs and then turned on his employer. How they could possibly believe someone like that wanted them, their unique brand of of vagrants that the city had never seen before. It didn't always make sense.

  
So Geoff had kept what distance he could. Though he gave the Vagabond the benefit of the doubt, he still only gave him simple tasks, trusting him with only the basics, the things that could fuck them over the least. They had all been on their toes.

  
Geoff had shut out the little things, the endearing things. He pretended not to notice the silly arguments Ryan got into with everybody, about everything from the words he used to his bizarre background to _'what the fuck do you mean you have melted snow from Appalachian mountains in a canteen? what do you mean you haven't even been?'_ Geoff would not hold stock in the fact that he doesn't wear his mask around them anymore, that they know his face. He shut out Ryan in sweatpants, barefoot on the hardwood floor of the penthouse, the fact that he kept the door to his room open and how it's messy and cluttered.

  
He did not acknowledge how they get to call him Ryan.

  
He kept his guard up for months, would not let those things make him less cautious. They mean nothing if the crew does not make it out alive.

  
But now here's the Vagabond, scary and untrustworthy and quite literally the monster that used to keep Geoff up at night, running back for Ray. He's out, safe in the car and ready to go, but he turns back. He remembers, understands what they have missed. He chokes out ‘ _Ray_ ’ without explanation, and then he's gone, into the building with a dozen men who want him dead. It's on fucking _fire_ for god's sake, but he goes in for Ray. Risks his life in a very real way, not just the risks they take simply by living their lives.

  
When he emerges, dragging a coughing, wounded Ray, Geoff's heart swells. They're safe. He realizes with a start that thought is not only that _Ray_ is safe, but _they_ are. It’s not as if Geoff doesn’t care if Ryan lives or dies, he just feels more protective of Ray, he thinks. Ray is still a kid in a lot of ways, and Ryan is far more experienced. Ryan knows beyond a doubt what he’s doing, what the life he leads entails. So does Ray, but Geoff can’t help the fear. Beyond an employee, crewmember, Ray is one of his best friends in this world. Ray is part of his family. Of course he worries.

  
He hadn’t quite realized how much he worried about the Vagabond. About _Ryan_.

  
Ryan shoves Ray in the back of the limo and climbs in after, shouting. “Go go go!" The fire has brought a lot of police attention, more than there would have been for just gunshots. It is Los Santos after all. The city is built on war, on destruction. There is no use in trying to stop it.

  
"How many are left?" Geoff asks, glancing back at the smoke billowing from the windows. He's recalculating, running routes through his mind. How many will there be to split up, how many are they watching for? There is a major difference in running from a rival crew and running from cops. He needs to know what they're up against.

  
"We've only got cops to worry about." Ryan says, hands gentle at Ray’s neck, down his chest, checking and rechecking injuries. His mask is pulled up, his face paint smeared and streaky. He looks fucking _terrified_ , his hands are shaking. He isn’t looking at Geoff, only at Ray.

  
But Geoff can’t focus on that now, can’t think of changing views and gaining trust. He has a crew to keep safe. "Ryan, just tell me-"

  
"None, Geoff.” Ryan snaps, finally looking up. His eyes are wide, brows arched. He’s breathing heavy, lips parted and turned down. He’s angry, angrier than Geoff has ever seen him. “They fucking kidnapped Ray, you think I'd let any of them leave with their heads attached?"

  
“We were on our way-”

  
“We didn’t have him yet.” Ryan says. “They were potentially useful, they’d have lived if they made it out.” he turns his attention back to Ray, and Ray limply swats him away. “Long enough to give us Ray back, at least.” He mutters, “ _Then_ I would’ve made sure I burned them alive.”

  
“Everything alright back there?” Gavin calls from the front seat. “Is Ray ok?”

  
“Think so,” Ryan says before Geoff can speak. “He inhaled a lot of smoke though, I don’t know.”

  
“I’m good, guys.” Ray coughs out. “What about everybody else?”

  
“We’re fine.” Geoff nods at what they can see of Michael, from his waist down in the middle of the vehicle, “Michael’s got us covered.”

  
_“Uh Geoff_?” Comes Michael’s voice, a shout over the wind and the chaos.

  
Geoff touches his knee to let him know he’s heard. “Yeah Michael?”

  
Michael sinks down now, head popping into view. He grins broadly. “We’re clear. Ish.” he shrugs. “I’d suggest we maintain plan ‘get the fuck outta dodge’ though.”

  
“Yeah, no shit.” his eyes meet Michael’s. “You sure we’ll be okay?”

  
“Dude, yeah.” Michael turns away from him, falling to his knees beside Ray. “Is he okay?”

  
“He’s fine.” Ray answers, and Michael rolls his eyes.  
“Shut the fuck up, Ray.” Michael says, pulling himself up onto the seat, he wraps an arm gingerly around Ray’s shoulders, pulling him to his chest.

  
“Wow, rude.” Ray says, starting to smile. “I get kidnapped and-” he interrupts himself with a coughing fit, followed by a groan. He leans into Michael, putting a hand to his own throat. “Ow, never mind. I’ll be quiet.”

  
“That’s what you get for being a smartass.” Michael looks up, first to Geoff, then to Ryan. “Seriously, he’s good, right?”

  
“Seems to be.” Ryan says, gently brushing a piece of Ray’s hair away from a cut on his forehead. “Jack can check him out when we get home.”

  
“Uh, Geoff?” Michael looks to him, “Not sure that’s the best idea yet. We’re good for getting away but just to be sure…”

  
“Abundance of caution.” Ryan says, nodding. “He has a point.”

  
“Yeah, uh, Gav?” Geoff calls, running through safe-houses in his mind. They all seem too far away, too inconvenient. They need to get somebody to look at Ray, make sure there’s nothing that they’re missing. But he can’t let his guard down either, can’t go down the street because even Jack can’t lose somebody in a block.

  
“Yeah?”

  
“Tell Jack to go…” he shakes his head. He’s honestly lost, unsure of what to do. He doesn’t know where to send them, where the safest place is.

  
“Geoff.” Ryan says. “Finding Nemo?”

  
And it’s fucking ridiculous, that he says it. On what fucking planet do those words mean anything other than an old animated movie? How do they set everything right, give Geoff the exact answer he needs? How has Ryan managed to get into his head this way? Honestly, Geoff thinks the only people who could possibly know what it means are himself and Ryan, because chances are, they’re the only ones who remember.

  
“Go where?” Gavin asks, glancing to the back of the limo.

  
_A safe house_. Maybe twenty minutes away, a hundred and one ways to get there, a thousand more ways to lose the handful of cars behind them. It’s probably one of the cleaner places they have, since the last time they used it was when Ryan was new and things were still tense. They didn’t all relax like that, didn’t live in the house so much as stay there. It only lasted a weekend, a temporary hideout that consisted mostly of drinking and watching whatever movies they could find on television. But Geoff stayed sober, stayed aware. Ryan didn’t drink, and Ray had spent the time on his DS. So he and Ryan were the only people to be bored out of their minds, watching fucking _Finding Nemo at three in the morning._

  
“Spanish Ave and Power St. There’s a house there.” Geoff does not take his eyes off of Ryan’s.

  
Ryan smiles.

  
\---

  
It ends like this:

  
Once again, it’s three in the morning and there’s an animated movie on the television. Tonight it’s an old movie neither of them recognize, There’s a dog, Geoff thinks, but he has paid no attention to the screen. He has been watching Ryan, watching the way he observes everyone else.

  
Geoff allows himself to acknowledge all of the things he’s shoved away, written off as insignificant and pointless. The things that should have let him know that Ryan was here for good, that he trusted the crew with his life and they should give him the same. The absence of his mask and face paint, his name, the little details of his background that he’s shared here and there. He watches everyone else with him, too. Jack offering to braid his hair (as a joke, she claims), Gavin feeding him crazy scenarios, Michael and Ray debating video games with him. He realizes, they already have given him that trust. He is the only one still holding back, still being paranoid.

  
He has to admit to himself that it is not Ryan’s fault, it’s his own. He has been too afraid of trusting Ryan only to get fucked over. Allowing him into their lives and having it end badly. It has been fear for his crew, himself, that have kept him from relaxing. He has been worried what could happen to the crew, what something like that would do to them. But in all honesty, it has been mostly self-preservation. He could not bring himself to get attached to Ryan if something went wrong.

  
Because he knows he could. He could find it in himself to grow attached to any of them, to love them more than he loves himself. Hell, he already has, to some degree. He can not imagine his life without any of them. He has always refused to lose them to his own stupidity. His crew is his family, and anything that could ruin that dynamic scares him.  
But now he has to examine those feelings, because there is no doubt that he at least owes Ryan that. He owes it to himself as well.

  
Only now does he allow himself to look at Ryan in sweatpants and a t-shirt with holes, his blonde hair wet and in a messy bun. He sees Ryan’s toes bouncing on the edge of the coffee table as he jiggles his foot. His easy smile, and genuine tone as Gavin asks him ridiculous questions. The way he doesn’t dismiss them, but puts thought into his answers, playfully debates Gavin’s. Geoff counts the number of times Ryan says ’ _How you doin’ Ray_?’ (11) and how many times he trips over his own words and blushes when they tease him (19). Geoff focuses on Ryan dozing off on the couch, how he doesn't startle when Michael touches his shoulder to say goodnight. He just opens his eyes and smiles softly, like he’s endeared by the thought Michael has given him. _‘Keep an eye on him, smoke inhalation can be serious shit.’_ The way he laughs when Jack cards her hands through his hair, shaking his head out of her grasp. The little wave he gives each of them as they head off to bed. He lets himself feel his own racing heartbeat as Ryan leans toward him on the couch, smiling.

  
“And then there were two.”

  
Geoff’s eyes widen as he realizes what this feeling is, what the overwhelming desire running through him is.

  
“Isn’t that what they say right before one of them dies?” Geoff says, and Ryan laughs.

  
“Not always.” Ryan turns back to the tv, watching the animation unfold. “Why is this all that's ever on tv?”

  
“Because God hates us.” Geoff won’t look away, is just sitting there staring at the side of Ryan’s face. It’s like being hit by a truck, this sudden realization of what he’s been purposely ignoring for six months.

  
“Shit, I saved a life today. Shouldn’t that put me in good graces?”

  
“You also took at least a dozen.”

  
Ryan shrugs, looking back at Geoff. “I mean, they deserved it though.” he grins.

  
“I don’t think that’s how it works, Ry.”

  
“Eh. I’ll live, I guess.” Ryan scoots down the couch a bit at an angle, so his head is nearly resting against Geoff’s arm, and Geoff can look down at him. His legs stretch out in front of him. “Hey Geoff?” he says, looking up.

  
“Yeah?”

  
Ryan tilts his head back, chin jutted up. “Are you gonna thank me?”

  
Geoff raises an eyebrow. “For?” He will not do this tonight, will not thoughtlessly start something he's not sure will end well. He _refuses_.

  
Ryan makes a sweeping motion with his left arm. “This,” he says, gesturing around, “the house.”

  
“It’s my house.” Geoff says, sliding down to be more at Ryan’s level. He’s still above, not quite as stretched out.

  
“Maybe, but you forgot about it.” Ryan grins. “I saw you almost lose your shit in the car.”

  
Geoff looks away, embarrassed. Sure, it'd been a hard moment to miss. He still didn't want to be reminded of it. “Shut up.” He says, turning back. “I know where my safe houses are, thank you very much.”

  
“Right, so that wasn't a blank look on your face?”

  
“I had a momentary lapse in memory, OK?”

  
“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” Ryan laughs and leans toward him more, touching his head to Geoff’s shoulder.

  
“Man, fuck you.” Geoff says, because it's better than actually thanking him. It is better than a genuine moment here.

  
“It's alright, Geoff.” Ryan chuckles. “At least you knew where it was specifically.” He looks up, breaking contact with Geoff’s shoulder. “I definitely didn't.”

  
Again, Geoff scoots down. “What do you mean?” At this point they're both practically laying down, heads meeting in the middle while their bodies stretch opposite directions.

“I thought this place was close, but I wasn't sure.” He shrugs, or at least as much as someone lying on a couch can. “All I could remember is watching fucking Finding Nemo because everybody was drunk. And I think Michael was really into it.”

  
Geoff laughs, remembering Michael’s slurred insistence that they continue watching the children's movie despite being adults and actual felons. “Oh yeah, that was bizarre. Twenty fucking seven and you'd think he was eight years old.”

  
“I mean, normally he’s got the maturity of a middle schooler, but when he’s drunk, watch out.”  
“He's fucking ridiculous.” Geoff says, as if it's not applicable to all of them. They are all over the top and weird in their own ways. It's a product of the life they live, mostly. They are unique in their hilarity, their lack of concern for human life, their own and others. They don't do it for the money or the power, just the fame and the _thrill_.

  
“Refresh my memory, why weren’t you stupid drunk that weekend?” Ryan asks.

  
It's a question he doesn't want to answer, a conversation he doesn't want to have. “Why would I have been drinking?” He'd rather talk about the other elephant in the room, the one only he sees. He thinks he's alone, at least.

  
“Geoff.” Ryan says, raising an eyebrow. “It's you.”

  
“What are you trying to say, Ryan?” It's not real indignation, because he knows exactly where Ryan is coming from. Everybody else had asked the same question of him, the words ‘Geoff’ and ‘sober’ do not quite mix, and they all know it.

  
“Just…” Ryan looks up at the ceiling, as if searching for the right words. “You know what I mean, Geoff."

  
“Look, you were new. I was still pretending to be a professional crew leader.” Geoff says. It’s a lie, but it's potentially less painful than the truth.

  
“Right. I feel like ‘professional crew leaders’” Ryan raises his hands to make air quotes, “don't spend the weekend farting into every single one of Gavin’s drinks.”

  
Geoff giggles quietly, “Haha, yeah, I did do that.” He can't help the grin on his face.

  
The fall into silence, still almost, but not quite, leaning into each other on the couch. It's not necessarily comfortable silence, not born out of easiness. It's not tense and suspicious, just an awkward lull in conversation. It’s a ‘I don't quite know what to say to you’ kind of silence.

  
“So why, Geoff?”

  
“Why what?”

  
“Why did you stay sober?” Ryan’s tone is serious now, even and quiet.

  
Geoff’s breath hitches in his throat. He doesn't want to do this, to tell Ryan that he had been _scared_ , fucking _terrified_ that the reason things had gone wrong last time had been Ryan. That, albeit briefly, he'd had the same fear this time. How does he tell someone he's lived with for six months that he hadn't trusted him? How does he say he’d been scared to trust him?

  
“Ryan I-” he doesn't know what the fuck to say. He goes for vague but honest. “You were new.” He says simply.

  
Ryan's body tenses, his chest stills. Geoff looks at him, the hurt clear on his face. “You… You didn't trust me.” It is a statement of fact, not a question.

  
“No,” he says honestly. “I didn't.”

  
Ryan sits up, moves himself to the edge of the couch, his back facing Geoff. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, head bowed. Geoff doesn't move, just watches him. He hadn’t wanted it to come to this tonight. He’d wanted to keep it all in his head, to never let Ryan know what shaky ground had been around him. But it’s too late.

  
“We didn’t know you yet.” Geoff says to the back of his head. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you were still wearing your mask back then.”

  
Ryan huffs, turning his head even farther from Geoff.

  
“You didn’t trust us either.” Because, fuck, man, he is not the only one in the wrong here. Ryan needs to recognize his part in this. Or rather, the part he had played back then.

  
Finally Ryan looks at him, glances over his shoulder and meets Geoff’s eyes.

  
“Fair enough.”

  
And no, it doesn’t erase the conversation, doesn’t make all the tension in the air magically disappear. It still hangs there, and Ryan still doesn’t move back to lying on the couch, and nothing ever really will go back, Geoff thinks. That possibility, that his crew could ever be the same as they were a year ago, well that was gone the moment he let Ryan in the door. So to think that his fear has been saving him in some way- it’s ridiculous. It has only served to prolong the inevitable.

  
“It was a long time ago, too.” Geoff says, sitting up and moving next to Ryan. They sit there, shoulder to shoulder and not looking at one another. “Now-”

  
“Now what?”

  
“It’s different now.” he says. “At least- I’d like to think it is. The rest of them-” he gestured towards the closed doors, “-I know they trust you.”

  
“Right.” Ryan says, eyes on the television screen. “I- I know they do too.”

  
“So do I, for the record.”

  
Ryan doesn’t respond, and the words hang heavy in the air. They weren’t meant to sound like a confession, or to have so much weight to them. Yet here they are, silence stretching between them, feeling like the beginning of the end. They are not at all where Geoff had envisioned this night going.

  
When Geoff had woken up this morning, he'd had a plan. It was shitty and partially thought out, its major plot points including a) robbery b) chaos and c) celebration, but it was a plan nonetheless. And this, this fucking conversation with Ryan in front of fucking animated dogs, well, it just hadn't been involved. But shit, maybe it's what they needed. The half-assed robberies had been part of an idea of relaxation, and idea of fun. Fight off the itching for something bigger.

  
Maybe, Geoff thinks, it is all a distraction. A thin veil to shield themselves from the things they didn’t want to confront. They all had their demons they tried to run from, their reasons for living the way they do. Perhaps he had done this to himself. Kept himself from thinking about things that might change his grasp on life. Things that scared him.

  
Finally, Ryan lets out a quiet sigh. “I’m sorry, Geoff.” he says, turning to look the other man in the eye. “I didn’t mean to start this.”

  
“You didn’t start anything.” It’s a stupid lie, honestly, because how could anyone not consider this conversation a _thing_ , a pivotal moment between them? There is really no denying it.

  
“Come on. Aside from me showing up at your door and the time Gavin drunkenly ran naked through the living room, this is one of the most awkward moments we’ve had.” He’s smiling, though it’s fairly tense.

  
“It’s not-”

  
“ _Geoff_. It’s fine. I know I should have kept my mouth shut.”

  
“ _No_.” it comes out sharper than he intends, and Ryan’s eyes widen in surprise.

  
“No?” he falls back against the cushions, folding his arms across his chest. “No what?”

  
Geoff can feel eyes on the back of his head, and he knows Ryan is staring at him, waiting for his response. He’s racking his brain, trying to figure out why he had blurted out the word so vehemently, because he’s honestly not sure. It had felt right, felt instinctual. Like something he had needed to say.

  
“Part of my job, as a crew leader-”

  
Ryan snorts.

  
“Fuck off, I _am_ a crew leader. A damn good one at that.” He takes pride in being who he is, in what he does. He keeps Los Santos’ biggest band of miscreants under control, and runs the largest crime syndicate the western seaboard has ever seen. And he does it _well_.

  
“Right, you're fantastic.” He deadpans, a smile on his face. He gestures as if waving Geoff forward. “Go on.”

  
“ _Anyway_ , part of my job as crew leader-” Ryan stays silent this time, “Is to make sure there aren’t any, like- what the fuck do they call it? Interpersonal affairs that could be detrimental to the success of the crew.” Fuck it, he’s pretty sure he’s heard something like that on tv.

  
At that, Ryan bursts out laughing. “For the love of god, you can’t be serious.”

  
“Well fuck you too, Haywood.” Geoff says, voice sounding moderately offended. He sinks back into the couch, shoulder to shoulder with Ryan again. “I am serious. If we as a crew can’t talk about what bothers us, or how we feel about things, life gets out of whack.”

  
“Are you trying to suggest we have periodic _feeling sessions?_ We can all sit around in a big circle and _share_.” he straightens up slightly, sobering his face. “Hi, I’m Ryan,” he says mockingly, “and sometimes I get scared that nobody likes me.” he shakes his head, and relaxes again. “I’ll pass, thanks.”

  
“I’m not saying all that, alright? I just-” he lets out a breath, searching for the right words. He’s been doing that a lot today. “I mean, if we have problems with one another, or if we have something to say, we should be able to say it. No hesitation or worry, this crew has to be honest with one another. It can’t work any other way.”

  
This time, Ryan doesn't make a joke. Instead he nods. “I know. I- I’m trying to learn that.”

  
The tension in the air has changed, dissipated slightly. Transformed into something almost comforting. it’s been a bonding moment, really. Geoff feels slightly more settled in his chest, as if some latent anxiety has finally been satisfied. He can feel others rising, taking its place. _Wonderful_.

  
Ryan slides down the couch, back to half lying, head leaning on Geoff’s shoulder. “I don’t know. This crew- it’s still so different to anything I’ve ever been used to.”

  
“That implies you’ve been used to a crew before.” Geoff says, and he doesn’t mean it quite as harshly as it sounds. Only that the vagabond doesn’t have a reputation of playing well with others. Ryan has been a different story.

  
Thankfully, Ryan only chuckles. “Fair point. I never understood why anybody would want this-” he gestures vaguely to the room, “-it didn’t make sense.”

  
“What changed?” he doesn’t want to pry, or to make Ryan uncomfortable and self conscious. But he can’t help his curiosity. They’ve still never had this conversation, even after all the crew had been through. Geoff isn’t sure anyone fully knows Ryan’s story.

  
“I got… _tired_.” he says, as if surprising himself. “Tired of my reputation being all that I had. Tired of doing it all for nothing.”

  
“As opposed to now?” Geoff just wants to understand. They certainly don’t have any rhyme or reason for the things they do. It’s all about what’s going to cause the biggest disturbance, the most intense news headline. In the end, no matter what level of organization Geoff has been forced into creating, it’s still about the adrenaline in his veins.

  
“It’s different now. It’s all for fun, yeah, but we’re having fun together. We’re all chaos and bullshit, yeah, but that’s completely different from being on my own. I guess I got tired of coming home to nothing, tired of always being alone.” he twists slightly, pressing his forehead to the side of Geoff’s arm. “Believe it or not, creating a lone wolf persona is in fact very… _lonely_.”

  
Geoff weighs words in his head, trying to come up with the best response. He forms and reforms sentences, wanting to incorporate a proposal into genuine comfort. He also doesn’t want to make a big deal out of Ryan’s admission. It could only serve to put him off on opening up. There’s a delicate balance in play here, and he’s not about to fuck it all up. He’s trying not to, at least.

  
“You-” he hesitates, fuck him, because god is this hard. It _shouldn’t_ be, it should be the easiest thing in the world. Something he’s done a million times before with a hundred different people. But this is _Ryan_ , and it’s so much more important than any of those other nights. If this goes badly, if somehow he’s fucking it all up and misreading the man gently pressed to his side, he’s _fucked_. They all are, because the crew was never going to be the same without any of them.

  
“You know you’re not anymore, right?” deep breath. “You’re not alone, in any sense of the word.”

  
“I- yeah, I know.” Ryan says, not moving. “You guys are my family, I know. it’s just- it’s not-” now he does move, away from Geoff, throwing his head back against the cushion. His eyes search the ceiling. “I- If I tell you something, can you promise it doesn’t leave this couch?” he looks to Geoff, locking their eyes.

  
Geoff raises an eyebrow. “Of course.” he says automatically. “Fucking pinky promise.” he holds out his left hand, pinky extended.

  
Ryan smiles, reaching forward and linking their fingers together. “Thanks.” he doesn’t let go, but lets their hands fall in the small space between them. “Part of the reason, I think, that I came and found you guys?” Geoff nods “I wanted- I needed to know how you did it.”

  
A hundred jokes run across Geoff’s tongue, but he holds them back. Now is not the time. “How we did it?”

  
“How you could be a- a family.” he swallows, looks down to his knees, “I wanted to know how Michael and Ray managed it.”

  
Geoff’s breath catches in his throat, because _holy shit_. maybe he’s not alone here, maybe he’s not imagining things. maybe Ryan sees it too. _Maybe maybe maybe_.

  
“Ry-”

  
“You know I can’t remember the last time I actually dated someone? When did I have a future with someone besides myself?” he laughs, dry and self deprecating. “I have no idea.” he looks to Geoff, shaking his head. “Hell, I can’t think of the last time I fucked someone more than once.”

  
“I don’t know the last time I fucked anybody, so you’ve at least got me beat.” It’s meant to be comforting, and it makes Ryan laugh at any rate. it comes out before it even registers in his brain what he’s saying. “Almost sounds like we could just fuck each other.”

  
Ryan smiles, small and sweet, but he doesn't laugh. “Almost sounds like the set up to a shitty porno.”

  
“I resent the fact that you think it would be shitty.” Geoff says, and he sits up now, properly, back pressed into the leather and feet planted firmly on the floor. Their pinky fingers are still entwined.

  
“The porno would be shitty. You-” Ryan stops, pulls himself up too. “I'd say I haven't given it much thought, but this is supposed to be an honest little heart to heart, here.”

  
And now, finally, Geoff pulls his hand back, dragging the heel of his hand hard down his own thigh. He turns to Ryan, knee stretched into the space between them, eyes only on Ryan's, attention, only, fully on Ryan. He had not planned this. Could not have begun to plan this, but if it's a conversation that's going to happen, if it's going to keep feeding the buzz in the back of his head, he's going to want to remember this moment. He's going to be sure.

  
“And what, exactly, do your thoughts tell you?”  
Ryan's eyes stay trained on the tv for a beat, two, three- and he turns. “Either super vanilla, or super kinky. No in between.”

  
Geoff snorts. “Seriously?” he shakes his head. “You don't think I have any gray area?”

  
“Gonna prove me wrong?”

  
And no, he didn't plan on that at all, not here, not tonight. But he's never been one to step down from a challenge, and maybe that's because he's never been one to really think things through, in the moment.  
In this moment his brain says ‘ _kiss him_ ’ and that's all it takes. He moves forward and reaches for Ryan's face, all one movement, and he second before their lips touch he swears he can see triumph in Ryan's smile.

  
Kissing Ryan isn't at all what he expected. He's not sure what that was, but gentle, almost timid, certainly isn't it. It's slow and sweet and damn near romantic, and maybe it says something about how long it's been since Geoff has made out with anybody that it's almost overwhelmingly _lovely_.

  
As his fingers tangle in Ryan's hair and Ryan's fingers find purchase on Geoff waist, the back of his neck, there's a gentle give and take, not fighting for control or anything of the sort, just an innocence and coexistence that Geoff never would have imagined. He thinks he could do this forever.

  
The thought hits him hard in the chest, and he pulls back. He opens his eyes, and there's Ryan, as he's always been, mouth slightly red pulled up in a smile, and Geoff wonders how it took him this long to see Ryan like this.

  
“You good?”

  
“Yeah.” Geoff says softly. “You, uh, you're good at that.”

  
Ryan chuckles. “My bad, I didn't realize this was middle school all over again.”

  
“Shut the fuck up. Excuse me for-”

  
“Make me.” and Geoff stops caring about playful arguments and being right or anything else besides doing exactly as Ryan says.

  
It's vastly less gentle this time, and Geoff pushes forward, pushes Ryan down to the couch, moving forward without thinking. His hands land either side of Ryan's face, and the position is awkward, kneeling above him like this, neck stooped to connect them, to somehow follow Ryan's instructions but still pretend to be in control.

  
Ryan chuckles into his mouth, and all Geoff wants is to shut him up. He presses Ryan down harder into the couch, all swirling tongue and half hidden gasps. He can feel Ryan smiling into it, just before Ryan's hands find his shoulders and push, ever so slightly, but enough.

  
Geoff pulls back instantly, falling back onto to his heels, still kneeling on the couch. Ryan's hands trail after him for a second, then fall to his own stomach. He's still smiling like he's heard the most wonderful joke in the world.

  
“Geoff.” He says, voice soft and full of something Geoff can't quite place.

  
“Ryan?” He slides his arm up to rest on the back of the couch, and he worries his bottom lip.

  
“As much fun as it is to be actual teenagers, making out on a couch in the middle of the night-”

  
“It's getting late?” Geoff fills in, assuming. It is, really, it's gotta be getting close to 4:30 if not 5, and even if they don't have to be up early, Geoff doesn't plan on spending the whole day in this safe house. Besides, they have research to do on the pieces of shit who landed them here in the first place, as well as how the fuck they even knew.

  
Ryan arches an eyebrow. “Well that too, I suppose.” He shakes his head and pushes himself up ever slightly, head against the armrest. “I was going to suggest a bedroom, but if you'd rather not-”

  
“No,” Geoff says quickly “that definitely sounds better than getting caught out here.”

  
Ryan snorts. “‘ _Getting caught_.’” He quotes, standing now, stretching his arms up over his head. “High school, I'm telling you.”

  
“Fuck off, Haywood.” and Geoff stands too, realizing not for the first time how goddamn beautiful Ryan Haywood is. Tight shirt, loose sweatpants, an inch of pale skin exposed between. How in the fuck had it taken Geoff this long to make some sort of move?  
And that's the moment it hits him, the moment an internal comparison starts and he thinks of course he waited, in what universe would the man in front of him want anything more than his leadership, maybe his friendship? He's got a good seven years on Ryan, a good twenty years of alcoholism and drug abuse and god knows what else, and it shows.

  
The thoughts paralyze him, and the idea of a bedroom and continuing the trajectory the night had taken is almost… terrifying. The juxtaposition of his body, loose skin and fat and just sad, next to fucking Greek god Haywood, it's about to send him to his own room, alone, forever to wonder what could have been, but-

  
But Ryan moves first, stepping forward and taking Geoff by his waist, kissing him, soft and gentle and still with that ever-present smile. “I'll make you a deal.” Ryan murmurs, lips still pressed against Geoff’s.

  
For what it's worth, Geoff knows it's a ridiculous thing to do, bringing his wrists to rest on Ryan's shoulders, like they're about to slow dance or something equally corny as shit. “Yeah?” But he doesn't pull away.

  
Ryan is the one to break contact. “You were right, it is late.” His eyes are locked on Geoff’s.

  
“Ah.” Geoff makes a move to step back, but Ryan holds him in place.

"Come lay with me. We'll do this, just… this.” and Ryan kisses him again, and Geoff continues to marvel at this soft and gentle side he never imagined existed in Ryan. “And when we get back home, when shit is sorted and we have all the time in the world, you can prove your gray areas.”

  
Geoff looks up at him, wondering, briefly, if somewhere this will all turn into a joke, if it will wind up open ended and unexplored and the light of day will push Ryan into a new perspective. He wonders if it will for him. Can he trust Ryan to still feel the same way in the morning, or the next day, or however long it ends up taking to sort shit out? Can he trust himself? Or will this all seem ridiculous and stupid and like a giant mistake when not fueled by exhaustion and thrill of having made it out with everyone intact? When the conversation at their backs isn't weighing heavy in their minds? Maybe.

  
But maybe not.

  
“Deal.”

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yo yo. It's been a hot minute, hasn't It?  
> I've literally had this in my drafts for two years and I've finally wrangled it enough to put it in the world. So I hope you enjoyed.  
> Feel free to follow me on Tumblr for occasional shit that inspires me: writerofshit


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